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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25886197">Should You Choose To Accept It</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Three_Oaks/pseuds/Three_Oaks'>Three_Oaks</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Mission: Impossible (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Day 4, Epistolary, Falling In Love, First Meetings, M/M, benthan week 2020, except the letters are exploding mission briefings, please don't think too hard about the relationship to the canon timeline</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:28:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,853</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25886197</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Three_Oaks/pseuds/Three_Oaks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ethan Hunt takes more than a liking to the charming British voice that does his exploding mission briefings.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Benji Dunn/Ethan Hunt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>136</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Benthan Week 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Should You Choose To Accept It</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for Day 4 of Benthan week 2020: Epistolary fic. I also have another one for the Groundhog Day AU, but it's already 1 am and I need sleep. I'll try to get it done tomorrow!</p><p>Hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to infiltrate Schneider's band and recover the stolen drive. The names of his accomplices are Vogele, Linemann... Oh, my god, there's a page of this."</p><p>An exasperated sigh. British accent, relatively young voice. </p><p>"No. I'm not reading this out, this is stupid. Whoever decided that an exploding decoy duck was the best way to deliver mission orders? I've told them so many times... You know what, maybe that's why I'm stuck doing this. In a basement. A damp basement, if you want to know."</p><p>The tape cut. Ethan stared around himself. The sewer he was currently hiding in was at most 8 °C, with mold he desperately hoped was not poisonous, and a smell that he didn't dare think about.</p><p>"You better be still there, Agent Hunt," the tape started again. It had obviously been recorded later. The voice still sounded exasperated, but there was an edge of pride to it now.</p><p>"If you look above yourself, you'll see a box taped to the ceiling of your sewer."</p><p>His sewer? Did the guy  think he lived there ? He opened the box.</p><p>"In there, you'll find a watch. It may look like a counterfeit Rolex. It is indeed a counterfeit Rolex, so don't try selling it. If you put on the counterfeit Aviator also included in the box, you'll be able to see the faces, names, known aliases and possible pressure points of Schneider and his numerous pals."</p><p>Ethan raised his eyebrows. This was impressive. And useful.</p><p>"There's also a chocolate bar. Not counterfeit! So please don't rat me out. I don't want to get sent to another, even worse, basement. Bye!"</p><p>Ethan stared in amazement at the brightly wrapped bar. Very carefully, he unwrapped it, and bit into the dark chocolate. It was perfect - the outside still hard under his teeth, the inside melting on his tongue. Not too sweet, but with a hint of hazelnut. When was the last time he'd eaten? He couldn't even remember. He took a second small bite, savoring the silky texture and the rich taste.</p><p>Maybe that sewer wasn't that bad after all.</p><p>***</p><p>Ethan tried to stop his teeth from shaking long enough to listen to the briefing tape. Which was harder that it looked, given his current situation. Being stuck on a ski lift certainly afforded privacy, but it was 10 below, and the wind made every snowflake feel like a needle against his face. How long until he was numbed enough by the cold not to feel them anymore? And then, how long until hypothermia got to him?</p><p>The same British accent greeted him as soon as he pressed the button of the fake bible he'd found in his hotel drawer.</p><p>"Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to retrieve the encryption key lost by Agent Trimble. This detail isn't strictly relevant to your mission, but please be aware that that idiot of Trimble lost the key because he fell asleep in the bathtub of Trimble's henchwoman. After bragging she would never be able to get the best of him. Also not strictly part of your mission, but attached are pictures of Timbly's worst ties."</p><p>Ethan chuckled, and took a look at the photographs. Those ties were indeed horrendous, especially the puce one patterned with clowns. How had he ever become an agent? He'd been assigned to work with him once, and had avoided him ever since because he'd nearly ruined their mission by bragging instead of following their mark. He was very glad the man agreed with his judgment.</p><p>"All the relevant information that you will need is in an USB drive that you'll retrieve from the restaurant at the top of the lift. Agent Golder is waiting for you. And don't forget to try the Linzer Torte, I heard it's delicious. Good luck, Agent Hunt. Thank you for not ratting me out last month! They even let me bring my peace lily with me now."</p><p>Ethan couldn't feel his cheeks anymore, but the cold on his teeth was enough to confirm that he'd managed to smile despite the numbness. It was nice, getting messages that talked to him as if he was an individual, and not a pawn in a game that would leave him dead, eventually.</p><p>Who could that man be? He was obviously British, which wasn't frequent at the IMF. Making those tapes wasn't his usual job. He'd been punished by being sent to do those, which told him two things. One, he wasn't afraid to speak his mind. Unsurprising, given the tone of those two tapes. Second, he was extremely gifted at whatever his actual job was. The IMF did not tolerate insubordination, unless losing you would be too detrimental for them. Had he been anything less than a genius, he would have been imprisoned, eliminated, or disavowed, depending on the gravity of the offence.</p><p>The skilift reached the top of the mountain and Ethan got off, skiing toward the restaurant that was barely visible through the blizzard.</p><p>He realized what had been missing from the tapes. The man had failed to threaten him with disavowment.</p><p>***</p><p>A hotel with a view to the beach. The sunset painting the shining water orange. The sweet summer breeze, gently waving in the palm trees on the promenade. Ethan couldn't say he wasn't grateful for the change of decor, given his last two mission. Spending three weeks buried in snow in Austria had made him lose all hope of regaining mobility in his toes. The mission had been a success, in the end. No major losses, except the car that he'd been provided by the office and that had met a fiery end down an icy ravine, and Trimble's reputation after the story of his substantial blunder had made the rounds at the office. Not that he had any role in that.</p><p>He put the phone to his ear, holding his breath in anticipation.</p><p>"Agent Hunt. You've survived the cold, I hear! No yeti? Don't worry, you're not going to become bored too quickly. Antonella Garafano, Fabrizio's wife, is arriving this evening. Your mission is to befriend her and discover where her husband's smuggling operation is based. According to the mission briefing I was provided by the idiots upstairs, you should not hesitate to use any means at your disposal to make her amenable."</p><p>The distaste in his voice was clear. </p><p>"So here are some facts, not provided by the briefing. She was married to Garafano when she was seventeen, after running away from a violent father. She's been exiled several time for sending money to the families of men that Garafano executed for disloyalty. Her favourite TV show is Friends, and she has a poodle named Lily. I'm not going to tell you how to conduct your mission, Agent Hunt, but an agent of your caliber can certainly complete it without putting this girl through more pain that she's already been through."</p><p>There was something in his tone that mad him think that this wasn't just a passing remark, it was a warning. He thought with disgust of how many of his colleagues would have jumped on the occasion. Well, he wasn't like them. He wouldn't let him down. </p><p>"Something else, Agent Hunt," the prerecorded voice started again. "If you keep breaking my tech, I'll make sure you'll never need it again. Do you have any idea how many hours of programming went into that car? I spent three nights just on the windshield wipers, not that you even used them! So please do be careful with that motorcycle. It's custom made, and you have no idea how hard it was to find rocket launchers that would fit."</p><p>Ethan felt some remorse course through his veins. It had been a beautiful explosion. But he hadn't meant to waste all the hard work that that man, whoever he was, had put into it. </p><p>He'd be more careful, this time.</p><p>***</p><p>"Agent Hunt, you're the most insufferable, careless nitwit I've ever not met."</p><p>Ethan nearly retorted, before remembering that he was speaking to an empty phone booth. An empty phone booth that someone had used for something else than making a call, given the smell. And the stickiness of the floor. He'd been careful! The bike had been resituted with not as much as a scratch on it, and Antonella was back with her mother, somewhere where Garafano wouldn't find her. Nor her father.</p>
<p>

What had he done wrong? And why did the scolding sting so much?</p><p>"Sorry. I'm not angry." He sounded very much angry. "I'm concerned." </p><p>Ethan stared at the phone, perplex. </p><p>The man took a deep breath. "I'm concerned because you threw yourself off a cliff instead of damaging that stupid bike!" </p><p>It hadn't even been a very high cliff. And there were bushes to break his fall.</p><p>"And then managed to get your arm impaled on a branch! It's a miracle you didn't bleed out!"</p><p>It was true that the bushes weren't the most welcoming that he'd ever encountered. </p><p>"So, I'm begging you, please  break all of my tech if you have to." Then, after a breath, "I don't want to read another of your hospital reports." </p><p>When the man read him the mission details, Ethan could barely focus. All he could hear was the tremor in that voice.</p><p>***</p><p>He asked around, next time he was at HQ. Had anyone received briefings from a British guy with a fondness for showy tech, defiance and ethics several grades above everyone giving orders? Also, great chocolate. Ethan thought about that chocolate more than he was willing to admit. </p><p>And no one had.</p><p>No one knew of any programming wunderkind that had recently been demoted. No one had a friend with a prized peace lily. He even went through the trouble of looking the desk charts for all the lower level and pulling the employees file, to no avail. He was about to go searching all that could qualify as a basement when he realized two things. One, what he had done was  not only a fireable offence, it was bordering on the stalkerish. Two, that voice was now something he'd come to look forward for. A normal amount. Only a normal amount. </p><p>Deflated, he went home, counting the days to the next mission.</p><p>The man, again. Ethan smiled so hard his cheek hurt. </p><p>He felt like he knew him. It was stupid, of course he was. He'd barely gleaned any hints of his secret correspondent's identity over months of mission, which was starting to frustrate him. He was a spy. He should have been able to find out more than the barest minimum. Origin: UK. Age: about 30. Voice: dreamy. And every hint, it was only by the man's good grace. A joke about a childhood dog there, a funny anecdote about an ex named Vincent that had made Ethan's heart jump, a comment about needing a new haircut. What color were his hair, he wondered. Or his eyes. His shape shifted between Ethan's daydreams, hair black to blond to brown to blond again, eyes every possible color but always with the same glint, both mischievous and so, so caring. The only thing that was constant was the voice.</p><p>He'd forgotten how it was, to have someone care. Someone who would chide him for taking too many risks, and compliment him on a mission well done.</p><p>Someone who would notice, if he didn't come back. </p><p>One night late December, with the sound of hail hitting half broken windows, Ethan took a recorder out of his bag. It was forbidden, of course it was. The mission briefings autodestructed for a reason. But he needed it, needed a proof that the voice existed. Needed to be able to listen it again. Needed to remember it, if he disappeared from his life as suddenly as he had entered it.</p><p>Heart beating hard, he pressed play.</p><p>"Ethan. It's me." Relief, then concern. He was tense, the noise of the skipping tape unable to hide the worry in his voice. "You need to run."</p><p>Ethan frowned. He was supposed to meet Adams tomorrow. Had there been a change in his orders?</p><p>"He knows you're IMF. The IMF knows that he knows you're IMF. They're trying to rat out a mole."</p><p>Thunder cracked close by. Ethan closed his eyes, hoping that it was wrong, that the IMF wouldn't do that to him. Knowing that they would, in a heartbeat.</p><p>"And those bastard don't care about what will happen to you! I told them, I told Mallory and Rodriguez and Zoller and everyone I could find, and they don't care!"</p><p>There it was, a new fact about the man. He was a new hire. Had he been there any longer, it wouldn't have been surprise, mixed with horror, in his voice. It would have been resignation. Ethan's heart tore at the idea of what he'd go through to lose that kind, hopeful, naive hope. Maybe his death would even be what tipped him over, just as the loss of his first team had been for him. He hoped he'd recover. Not everyone did.</p><p>"I'll cover for you, alright? There's money and a plane ticket in the cache below the statue on the Place du Marché. Get it, and run, you hear me?"</p><p>He couldn't do that. He couldn't run, not when there was a mission. Even a mission that would kill him. He felt strangely detached. It was the job. He was an agent. He wasn't sure he was anything else, anything more. </p><p>"Please. I know you don't want to." The voice broke. "I can't... I can't be the one sending you to slaughter. I've been watching you. Sorry. Sounds creepy, I know." A small laugh. Ethan cherished it. "I've seen you. I know you, even if I don't. And I know you don't care about coming home. But I care. Please, Ethan. You're too kind to die for those monsters. Run."</p><p>Ethan considered it seriously. The man must have been very persuasive, for that to happen. He'd never considered abandoning a mission for his own sake. But he couldn't.</p><p>"And don't worry about me, you hear? I'll be fine. I'm always fine. Trust me on this. We'll pull through this together."  The voice was warmer, now. "So, this is only a goodbye, and not a farewell. I'll see you again, Ethan. And promise me something?" </p><p>"Yes?" he answered, out loud, not even bothered by the fact he was talking alone.</p><p>"Promise me you'll take care of yourself."</p><p>"I promise."</p><p>The tape died, leaving behind only a terrible silence and the clattering haul. Ethan stared at his hands for a good minute before stopping the recording. </p><p>This night, for the first time, he ran away.</p><p>***</p><p>"Your mission, should you choose to accept it..." </p><p>Ethan lost the thread. It wasn't him, it wasn't the same voice that had kept him sane the past year, that had saved his life. That had cared.</p><p>The voice rattled on and on, orders and names and warnings that Ethan wasn't hearing.</p><p>"As always, should you or any of your team be caught or killed, the Secretary will disavow any knowledge of your actions."</p><p>There it was again. His sword of Damocles. He smashed the device to pieces before it could explode.</p><p>***</p><p>The man never came back. Ethan never found him. Mission after mission, year after year, his heart never stopped missing a beat, waiting for the voice he loved. And he never stopped feeling stupid every time he was wrong. </p><p>He'd have wondered whether he had even been real, had he not had that tape. Their last conversation, if you could call it that. He listened to it, sometimes, when he was alone, late at night. He knew every breath of it, every single word. It made him feel like the world wasn't so empty after all. Like he wasn't empty. </p><p>He hadn't thought you could miss someone you'd never met so much.</p><p>**</p><p>"Ethan, are you even listening to me?" Luther asked. </p><p>"Yes, yes. New agent. I hear you."</p><p>"He's a strange one. A techie, apparently a genius, but got sent to the metaphorical North Pole for a botched mission. He's passed all the field exams last month."</p><p>"Who even wants to become a field agent, these days?" Ethan wondered idly.</p><p>"No idea. But he wrote in his application that you were an inspiration to him."</p><p>"Really?"</p><p>"Really. Here we are. Will you behave, Ethan? Name's Benji Dunn."</p><p>Luther pushed the door open.</p><p>The man sitting at the table jumped up as they entered. He was blond, blue eyed with a short beard, and he looked extremely nervous. Ethan wanted to tell him it was alright.</p><p>"Agent Dunn? I'm Ethan Hunt. Welcome to the team," he said, reaching out for a handshake.</p><p>Dunn opened his mouth once, then twice, no sound coming out.</p><p>"It's a pleasure finally meeting you, Ethan," Dunn managed to say.</p><p>Ethan's heart stopped. </p><p>"You two know each other?" Luther asked.</p><p>Ethan smiled so widely his cheek hurt.</p><p>"Yes. Yes, we do."</p>
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